


Imperator Magistrorum

by kristenthelia



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang 2015, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristenthelia/pseuds/kristenthelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a strange twist of fate, Dorian is elected to Archon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperator Magistrorum

Dorian shifted uncomfortably in front of the mirror. It wasn’t the opulence of the outfit that caused him distress… rather it was what it represented and what it meant for the future. He sighed, straightening his posture, attempting to create a commanding presence. After a moment, he slumped again staring at the mirror with tired eyes.

Who knew that he would end up here, of all places? _Imperial Archon of the Tevinter Imperium_. Even now the titled sounded off, especially as it was applied to himself. It had been a rather unusual set of circumstances that had led to this point: in-fighting among the established parties and subsequent breakdown, Maevaris gaining major traction in public opinion, and then that very public - so used to being downtrodden and left out of politics - coming in force to demand an election for the Archon. They wouldn’t be able to participate, of course, but with riots on everyone’s mind and the looming threat of the Qunari, the Magisterium agreed to unceremoniously dethroned the previous Archon and elect a new one.

At first, no one thought to place him forward as a candidate, not even Dorian himself. He was happy as he was: a Magister with some power, but not enough to be blamed if all went poorly. He could influence those around him and advocate for a better Imperium. He was actively working to change the Imperium, albeit in small ways.

It had been Maevaris’ idea to put him forward as Archon. His family was established enough to appeal to the conservatives of the Magisterium and his actions thus far had endeared him the common folks desiring change.

Of course that didn’t stop many in the Magisterium from speaking of the end of the Imperium, as if his mere presence would cause Tevinter to collapse around their ears. Others spoke of him as a the next Great Reformer, the one to bring them out of their dark pasts and into modern Thedas.

Standing in the front of the mirror, Dorian could hardly imagine him as either of those things. Right now, he was just tired and frightened. He found himself mindlessly fiddling with the crystal draped around his neck. He was sorely tempted to call the Inquisitor, if only to hear her voice. She had always offered a comforting presence for him, and perhaps she would have some insight on how to handle power so abruptly thrust upon him.

Dorian stared down at the the pedant for a moment longer before moving to hide it beneath his clothes. He didn’t want to be a bother, and knowing her, she’d end up concerned and high tail it to Tevinter to comfort him, or even Maker forbid, _help_. She’d done enough for Thedas.  Any peace she had earned was her’s to enjoy… there was no need for him to intrude.

He turned to stare at the mirror again, attempting to fix his already immaculate collar. After a moment of preening, he sighed to steel him for what would face him in moments.

“Magister Pavus.” Dorian turned to see a servant enter, his head bowed low.

“So I’ve finally been summoned, hm?” he asked rhetorically, a smirk crossing his face. The servant merely nodded, not looking up. Dorian felt his jovial persona slip some but clapped his hands. “Then, lead the way.”

He followed behind, glancing around at the splendor of the hall around him. The walls were made of a smooth stone and covered with rich tapestries, showing the various achievements and martial victories throughout Tevinter history. As he walked past them he wondered how many of them were embellished or outright lies.

As he moved closer to the hall, the sounds of chatter began to get louder and Dorian’s stomach began to feel like it was filled with lead. Maintaining an expressionless face, he internally cursed Maevaris. It was too much too quickly for him and at this moment he wanted nothing more than to run away from the whole affair.

But another part of him wanted, _needed_ , to stay and see this through. He still remembered the promise he made the Inquisitor all those years ago, in an isolated castle and an undead magister threatening to tear a hole in the sky.

It was the resolution to the Inquisitor that kept him walking forward, determined to do the best with what he was given.

Once they reached the massive doors that separated him from the hall, they came to a stop. The servant quickly bowed, walking backwards to one of the servant entrances before disappearing into the unseen hallways that kept the slaves and servants hidden from sight. Dorian turned his attention back to the large metal doors in front of him, examining the reliefs in the door.

Just as he reached up to touch one, he heard a voice call out to him. “Magister Pavus!” He turned quickly to see one of the other Magisters they had recruited to their reformist cause, Amycus Bello, walking towards him with a large grin on his face. “Well, no Magister Pavus for much longer, eh?”

“No, I suppose not,” Dorian agreed, feeling the lead in stomach get heavier.

Bello looked at him closely for a moment. “Not your normally confident self, I see.”

“I thought I would try out a new personality trait for the day,” he replied. “Being overly-confident does require a lot of energy, I’ll have you know.”

Bello just snorted in response, before looking at him seriously. “Personality aside, you do look well.”

Dorian just nodded, not answering.

“Good luck today, my boy,” Bello moved closer to clap him on the shoulder. “I daresay you’ll need it.”

“Thank you, Magister Bello,” he replied respectfully, bowing slightly. Bello clapped his shoulder once more before moving away. Over his shoulder, Dorian saw the rest of the Magisterium come filing down the hallway.

 _Always fashionably late_ , he thought. At the head of the group came Magister Cadmus, the unofficial leader of the Magisterium’s conservatives. As well as the subject of many nasty rumors.

“Hello Pavus,” he drawled, walking up to him.

“Magister Cadmus,” he greeted loudly, a false bright smile on his face. “What a surprise!”

“Is it really such a surprise that I would be here for the ceremony”

It's more of a surprise you would greet me all, he thought bitterly. _But I suppose elbows of the powerful must be rubbed, no matter who they belong to._

“Of course not,” Dorian replied. “Appearance must be kept, after all.”

“Indeed.” They continued to stare at each other for a moment, an unspoken challenge between them. The air was becoming tense between them, as Dorian couldn’t help but remember that it was Magister Cadmus who was most opposed to his appointment. A Magister had not been elected to Archon in several hundred years, and his appointment was breaking a long standing tradition. But the Magisterium was desperate and needed a figure that was a known sympathizer to the commoners to keep a riot from breaking out. Dorian had often wondered in the past several days whether or not Cadmus would have prefered rebellion to his election.

After a few moments of silence, they heard a small cough. Looking around they saw a young man, no more than 13, wearing apprentice robes. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he started slowly. “But we’re ready to start.”

Cadmus glanced back at Dorian once more before stepping to side the allow him to pass. “Let’s not keep them waiting, _Imperator_.”

Dorian stood straighter, hoping that he looked for intimidating than he felt. He slowly made his way through the throng of Magisters that had congregated there, moving to his spot at the back. By the time he made it there, the others were already in their formation of four long lines. All were dressed in their best robes, made of the best silks and velvets they could get their grubby hands on, and all were emblazoned with the emblem of Tevinter: a dragon.

Dorian himself looked similar, though dressed in all black and gold accents, with a wide collar. He once again started to feel self-conscious and started mindlessly playing with his sleeves.

He didn’t have long to fiddle with them, however, as within the next moment, the doors swung open. The low murmur of before was replaced by the very loud sound of hundreds of voices speaking at once in excitement and anticipation. Dorian felt himself start to sweat.

Soon the Magisters in front of him began to move at a slow pace and a cry went out from the crowd. He could see some of them waving, reaching out to touch some of the hands outstretched to them.

Dorian shifted in place, glancing at the two guards standing next to him in full parade dress. Their armor glinted off the sun pouring in from the door and their black feathered plumes waved slightly in the breeze. It was a pity he couldn’t see their faces, if for no other reason to take comfort in another person rather than the statues of metal the appeared to be right now.

Time passes slowly as he watched the Magisters grow smaller and smaller as they walked along the pavillion. Soon it would be his turn to make that same walk, with all the eyes of the Imperium upon him. In the distance, he saw the Magisters arrange themselves on the steps leading to the Magisterium proper -- a towering building from ages past, covered in marble and gold trimming with lush dark velvet hanging from its eaves.

Once the Magisters were in place, there was the sound of loud drums which brought a hush to the crowd followed by a loud fanfare of trumpts. That was his cue to move, and thus he began his long walk down the pavilion.

When he first stepped out, he had to stop himself from covering his eyes from the bright sun. After a moment, he adjusted to the bright light and saw the hundreds of faces around him. Some were cheerings outstretching their hands towards him, others scowling and obviously suspicious of the events that led to this.

Tentatively, he raised his hand to wave and a large cheer went up from parts of the crowd. He waved slightly, smiling at them. Many waved back to him while others began to throw flowers at his feet as he walked by. He tried to examine their faces as best he could as he walked by. Though there were several skeptical faces, many others looked undeniably happy and hopeful. he wondered briefly had been spread about him among Minrathous’ people. Whatever it was, it was enough to make many in the crowd hopeful for what he could do.

The position of Archon was a figurehead at best and a puppet at worst. Surely the people knew this.  But… then again, a Magister had not been elected to the position of Archon in a very long time. It was almost unprecedented. Perhaps it was that face that gave them hope: if one long standing tradition was broken, perhaps others would be too.

Suddenly, he felt something hit his face, stunning him out of his musing. The crowd around him grew quiet as Dorian plucked a flower from his voluminous collar. It took him a moment to realize that he had, in fact, been hit in the face by a flower while he was lost in thoughts. He found it rather amusing, though by the number of pale, frightened faces around him, many others thought otherwise.

He left out a laugh and brushed the stray petals that had come loose from his shoulder. There was an uneasy laugh from a few in the crowds around him. He stared at the flower in his hand a moment, before deciding to pin it to his robes. The tension in the air dissipated and there were cheers once more. Dorian smiled brightly and resumed his waving and small procession.

The rest of his walk continued without incident. When Dorian arrived at the steps of the Magisterium, he paused to stare up at its facade. It was a truly marvelous building, even if it housed people who were decidedly less so. After a moment, he heard the loud drums again, bringing the crowds to silence once more.

Dorian stared up at the Magisters, many of their faces impassive. A long moment passed and all he could hear was the warm breeze that swirled around him. He watched as Cadmus and Maevaris walked towards him, their robes brushing against the marble steps with a soft _shush_.

It was custom for the Magisters to conduct the ceremony officially naming the new Archon. After all, the Archon was merely a figurehead most of the time with the Magisterium running the Imperium in their stead. But there was a particular controversy surrounding which one of the many magisters would lead it. Shouts, threats, and a few fireballs later, they had finally decided on a joint venture - Cadmus and Maevaris, the leaders of opposing factions, would preside together.

“Dorian, of House Pavus. You stand before as now as one of our peers, a Magister of high esteem,” Maevaris began, her loud voice echoing. “But it is your peers that have called you to another path.” She walked slowly down the steps, stopping at the one just above him.

Cadmus followed. “Today you leave the Magisterium and move on to a higher calling.” Dorian saw something gold glinting in his hands, a small golden scepter. He raised it and tapped Dorian’s shoulders once, then twice. Maevaris walked forward as well, and placed a small golden circlet on his hair.

Dorian kept his head bowed to them for a moment, before looking up at them. Maevaris smiled at him, and Cadmus just grimaced before they backed away. Turning around to face the large crowd, Dorian felt himself swallow hard.

“ _Io, Imperator Magistrorum! Io Archon Dorian!_ ” Came the shouts from behind him. Soon, the crowd was echoing their chant.

 

* * *

 

That evening, he found himself trussed from one room to another, a crowd of servants following after. He had to look appropriately regal, after all. After all was said and done, he found himself in the middle of a party, downing too much wine.

“You should slow down, dear,” Maevaris chimed in from behind him.

“Don’t think of it as me getting drunk,” Dorian replied, grabbing a full glass from one of the servants passing by. “Think of it as me helping to maintain a calm demeanor around all of the backhanded compliments I’ve received.”

“Dorian,” she said severely.

“Now is not the time for a lecture on my drinking habits, Maevaris,” he said quickly. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

She was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Drinking aside, you’re handling the situation rather well.”

“Am I?” he questioned, gulping wine.

Mae just raised her eyebrow in response. “Is everything alright, Dorian?”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Considering your usual biting humor is nowhere to be found today,” she said. “I think I have a reason to be concerned.”

“Perhaps I just finally realized that it was time to be an adult and become incredibly boring,” he responded in a droll voice. He downed his glass and set it aside. “I think I am retiring for the evening.”

Maevaris hummed in response, watching as he walked out of the hall.

Once out of the sight of the partygoers, he reached up and pulled his collar open, his robes trailing behind him as he walked. He had barely spent 20 minutes at the part before deciding to leave, the lead stomach returning. He laughed to himself at realizing his first abuse of power as Archon was to leave a party early. Not that he minded abusing that particular power.

His only company as move down the hallway was the sound of his shoes on the floor, its rhythmic tapping comforting as moved further away from the bustle.

“Pavus.” Dorian turned at the sound of his name. Out of the shadows came Cadmus who walked calmly towards him.

Dorian sighed audibly. “What does you want, Cadmus?”

“Just a moment of your time.”

“And you couldn’t have taken this precious moment away from me tomorrow?” he asked gibly, an eyebrow raised.

Cadmus ignore his smart remark, instead taking time to size him up. “You know that I was vehemently against your appointment to Archon. You’re callus and brash, have no respect for traditions --”

“And the sky is blue, the grass is green,” Dorian interrupted, annoyed. “Get to the point Cadmus.”

“I just want to make sure you don’t get any ideas into your head, _Archon_.” He spat at the other man. “Archons have little power in Tevinter. I aim to make sure that stays true.”

“You should watch yourself, Magister Cadmus.” Dorian said, leaning towards the man. “Do you know why the South has deemed this the _Dragon Age_? Because dragons are a symbol for change and destruction. What better place to start than here? _Your_ traditions have brought us to the brink of destruction more than once.”

“What do you know of _our_ traditions boy?” Cadmus replied, glaring.

“Enough to know we’re doing more harm than good to Tevinter.” Dorian let his words hang in the air a moment before continuing to stalk down the hallway to the blessed privacy of his room.

“Step carefully, Pavus.” Dorian could barely heard the words as he walked away.

 

* * *

 

The sound of thunder woke Dorian up with a start. Sitting straight up in bed, he placed a hand over his heart, feeling its frantic beating. After a moment to calm down, he sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead.

Falling back onto his pillows, he tried to fall back asleep. He tossed and turned for a while, but unable to calm his mind he ended up staring at the ceiling and listened to the rain outside. Frustrated with his lack of sleep, he decided that getting up and being productive was better than sitting in bed sighing.

Standing, he stretched for a moment before padding over to his desk and lighting a candle. He settled into his chair and grabbed the first letter on his desk and began reading. Even if it was the middle of the night, Dorian found himself at peace for the first time in many days. There were no expectations of him at this hour and he found that work came more easy to him when he wasn’t expecting someone to burst into his rooms at any moment.

Hours passed by quickly, though at one point he abandoned his desk entirely, deciding instead to stand near one of the large windows to watch the sun rise. He mindlessly started playing with the crystal around his neck, swing it back and forth on his chain. It wasn’t until he heard a sleepy “ _Dorian do you what time it is?_ ” that he realized that he may have accidentally called the Inquisitor.

“Oh! Amaria, I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly.

“Is everything alright?” he heard her sleepy voice ask.

“Yes, yes, everything is fine.”

“Then why are you awake before the sun?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he answered honestly. “How have you been?”

“Good,” she answered quietly. “It's been hard, adjusting, you know but… it could be worse. Though I have to say, I never thought that I would be living in a farmhouse.”

“Oh the horror!” Dorian mock gasped, though smiled to himself when she laughed.

“It's just a temporary living arrangement,” Amaria said through her giggles. “Until we find a better base of operations for… you know…”

She trailed off and they were silent for a moment. Dorian had forgotten all about Solas over the past several months. Not on purpose, but coming back to Minrathous had a way of overwhelming him. Especially now.

“How has that particular venture been progressing?” he asked.

She snorted. “Honestly, it hasn’t. He knows too much about us and unfortunately has access to magic we do not at the moment. So we’re trying to trace down his history. I think Leliana is absolutely giddy at the prospect of the challenge that will pose.”

“So our dear former spymaster is still doing well I see,” he said. “And everyone else?”

“Cassandra’s still grumpy, Dagna’s still experimenting, you know, pretty much the same,” she replied. “I haven’t heard from the others in a while.”

“And what about our dearest commander?” He couldn’t help the teasing note in his voice.

“He’s asleep at the moment,” she answered coyly, and Dorian could image the smile on her face. “He’s doing fine, though I think he misses your weekly chess matches as I refuse to play against him anymore.”

“Tired of losing?”

“That, and his smug grins when he wins,” Amaria groaned.

It was nice to have a normal conversation for once. Talking with Amaria was without strings and double meanings. He could be more himself and it was a welcome relief to the stilted conversations over the past several days.

“How have you been Dorian?” she asked. “Tevinter still evil?”

“Always my dear,” he drawled into the crystal. “Though slowly becoming more acceptable everyday.”

“Good to hear,” she laughed. He laughed along with her for a moment before a silence fell between them. He wondered if he should tell her about his new promotion.

“Amaria,” he started, clearing his throat.

“Hm?”

“So… well… I, uh….” he was having a hard time formulating the words. _Just say it Pavus…_

“The thing is… is well, I --” Dorian suddenly felt himself pitch forward and a loud explosion come from behind him. His ears rang for a few seconds as he laid sprawled out on the floor of his room, shattered glass all around him.

Scrambling to his feet, he ran towards the now broken window. Before him, he saw a whole fleet of ships on the horizon, sailing directly towards Minrathous. From one of them, a large fireball flew and hit the shore. He could hear people screaming.

Squinting, he made out the red symbol stitched into the sails.

He inhaled deeply, a horrified look crossing his face. The Qunari had finally launched a full force.

_ Maker help us all... _

**Author's Note:**

> Some of this story goes against established lore in The World of Thedas - namely Dorian's election, as Archons are not drawn from the Magisterium. I took some liberties with this. Also, much of the ceremony for the crowing on Archon is drawn from Ancient Roman triumphs, as I pretty familiar with them. 
> 
> Special thank you to Refinition for the fantastic art piece. I really enjoyed the chance to explore Tevinter and create some of my own lore for it!


End file.
